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Chicken and the Egg
So I was reading some fanfic yesterday in which one of the characters is suffering from depression with psychotic features, and it was freakily well-written and quite possibly hit a little close to home.
And I think that maybe I shouldn't be reading this in the middle of a winter in which November has lasted all the way into February, or maybe it was just the St. John's Wort and the resulting really vivid dreams that's screwing with me, or I dunno.
I also left a long-winded comment in someone's LJ with a summary of the Five Years During Which Phnee Kind of Went off the Deep End™, because someone close to her is going through a bad time, and I am a firm believer in not keeping silent about that sort of thing. mental illness is one of those last taboos that no one speaks of in polite society, because it's Just Not Done and it makes people uncomfortable. So unless someone is asking me about the scars on my arm in the middle of a party, when it's obviously not the right time for it, I do try to answer questions as honestly and completely as possible.
Oh, uh, hey! It occurs to me that all the new people to this LJ that I mentioned yesterday might not in fact know that I basically went off my rocker for a few years. *waves* I'm okay now, for the record. Still have rough patches, but on the whole I am fine, med-free and totally functional. But I was diagnosed with Type II Bipolar Disorder seven years ago now (holy shit, has it been that long?), and that kind of defined my existence for a while. Be thankful you weren't here for that interlude: my friends were saints to put up with me. :)
I'm not sure if it's just the fact that it's winter and it's been rougher than usual this year, or if all that rehashing of old issues in my head brought it all back, or what. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Anyway, all this to say that I had a weird, rough night. I had quite possibly the worst nightmare in years, in which I was in my apartment and the power cut out. Except that the TV stayed on, as well as one tiny light in the kitchen. It was weird, because usually my dreamscapes don't in any way resemble real life, but in this case it was unmistakeably my apartment, maybe slightly bigger. There was a DVD in the player which was playing what appeared to be the darker, scarier episodes of Buffy (the episodes never actually happened, for the record: my brain came up with something extra specially scary all for me). I remember thinking that was weird, because I only own one season of Buffy, and certainly not this "special" DVD, and I decided I must have gotten it through Zip. Because, apparently, I need to come up with logical explanations for things in my dreams, too.
I purposefully moved away from the TV because I was freaking myself out, and wandered into the kitchen, which is when I really started to freak out, because I could see something out in the garden through the window. I think I mixed up my old apartment with this one at that point, because it seemed as though I was looking out from the second story. What frightened me was that I knew something was out there, but it was swathed in shadows and I couldn't see what it was and I knew it was coming for me. Shadow-monsters have to be one of my biggest squicks ever. They freak me the hell out, even on TV and in the movies. So, yeah, to say I didn't deal well would be putting it mildly.
So when I came out of the dream I kind of came apart. I thought I was going to float right off my bed, and I haven't really felt that disconnected from myself or anything in a really long time.
The good part? I totally knew how to fix it. I have no idea how I figured it out so quickly, but I did. I forced myself to get up, fetched Pan-Pan from the other room, and lay back down with him on top of me (it's his favourite spot). It's amazing how nineteen pounds of cat lying on top of you can ground you like nobody's business.
Five minutes later he crawled over me and settled into my arms in his second-favourite position of having me cuddle him like a teddy bear, and five minutes after that I was asleep again.
So all's well that ends well. All in all, I think it went okay, and I didn't have any residual bad feelings or anything this morning.
I'm counting this one as a win.
And I think that maybe I shouldn't be reading this in the middle of a winter in which November has lasted all the way into February, or maybe it was just the St. John's Wort and the resulting really vivid dreams that's screwing with me, or I dunno.
I also left a long-winded comment in someone's LJ with a summary of the Five Years During Which Phnee Kind of Went off the Deep End™, because someone close to her is going through a bad time, and I am a firm believer in not keeping silent about that sort of thing. mental illness is one of those last taboos that no one speaks of in polite society, because it's Just Not Done and it makes people uncomfortable. So unless someone is asking me about the scars on my arm in the middle of a party, when it's obviously not the right time for it, I do try to answer questions as honestly and completely as possible.
Oh, uh, hey! It occurs to me that all the new people to this LJ that I mentioned yesterday might not in fact know that I basically went off my rocker for a few years. *waves* I'm okay now, for the record. Still have rough patches, but on the whole I am fine, med-free and totally functional. But I was diagnosed with Type II Bipolar Disorder seven years ago now (holy shit, has it been that long?), and that kind of defined my existence for a while. Be thankful you weren't here for that interlude: my friends were saints to put up with me. :)
I'm not sure if it's just the fact that it's winter and it's been rougher than usual this year, or if all that rehashing of old issues in my head brought it all back, or what. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Anyway, all this to say that I had a weird, rough night. I had quite possibly the worst nightmare in years, in which I was in my apartment and the power cut out. Except that the TV stayed on, as well as one tiny light in the kitchen. It was weird, because usually my dreamscapes don't in any way resemble real life, but in this case it was unmistakeably my apartment, maybe slightly bigger. There was a DVD in the player which was playing what appeared to be the darker, scarier episodes of Buffy (the episodes never actually happened, for the record: my brain came up with something extra specially scary all for me). I remember thinking that was weird, because I only own one season of Buffy, and certainly not this "special" DVD, and I decided I must have gotten it through Zip. Because, apparently, I need to come up with logical explanations for things in my dreams, too.
I purposefully moved away from the TV because I was freaking myself out, and wandered into the kitchen, which is when I really started to freak out, because I could see something out in the garden through the window. I think I mixed up my old apartment with this one at that point, because it seemed as though I was looking out from the second story. What frightened me was that I knew something was out there, but it was swathed in shadows and I couldn't see what it was and I knew it was coming for me. Shadow-monsters have to be one of my biggest squicks ever. They freak me the hell out, even on TV and in the movies. So, yeah, to say I didn't deal well would be putting it mildly.
So when I came out of the dream I kind of came apart. I thought I was going to float right off my bed, and I haven't really felt that disconnected from myself or anything in a really long time.
The good part? I totally knew how to fix it. I have no idea how I figured it out so quickly, but I did. I forced myself to get up, fetched Pan-Pan from the other room, and lay back down with him on top of me (it's his favourite spot). It's amazing how nineteen pounds of cat lying on top of you can ground you like nobody's business.
Five minutes later he crawled over me and settled into my arms in his second-favourite position of having me cuddle him like a teddy bear, and five minutes after that I was asleep again.
So all's well that ends well. All in all, I think it went okay, and I didn't have any residual bad feelings or anything this morning.
I'm counting this one as a win.
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This is where I reveal a few of my barely closeted psych issues when I say that I'm also kind of in love with those sorts of dreams. They're shit when you have them, but holy crap, the imagery is beyond. But, I've always had erratic sleep patterns which just sort of includes messed up dreams by default. So, and back to the why Wench is abby normal comment, I honestly find them familiar and comforting at this point. When I read other people's dreams and find them similar, I really sort of dig it. It's like "oh, hey, I was there - well, not there-there, but absolutely around the block from that apartment in nightmare town". I think it's also why I enjoy scary, darkly themed forms of entertainment and am so picky about them.
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My dreams are usually pretty awesomely funky. I have spectacular dream landscapes, usually vastly epic ones. That makes the nightmares worse, but the good dreams are really freaking awesome too.
I, too, am really picky about my dark and scary themed forms of enjoyment, but when I do enjoy them, boy howdy! It's why I love SPN so much: it pushes ALL the right buttons. :)
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I am so incredibly pleased to hear that it WORKS. \o/
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Still, I should start a clinic or something.
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